You can take that to the bank, which is in my kitchenMarch 18, 2009
Psycho Dave is in my kitchen eating my bacon and building what looks to be some sort of front desk appartus out of my kitchen table. It’s this improvised carpentry that gets my attention and warrants questioning.
“I’m building a bank,” says Psycho Dave. “Welcome to Separate Unity Bank.”
Psycho Dave has pretended to be many things. A Vietnam veteran. The ambassador to Senegal. Hugh Jackman. But a banker? This is new, so I ask him what his angle is.
“I want to get some of that money the government’s giving away to keep the financial system from collapsing,” says Psycho Dave.
“But the government’s only giving money to huge banks,” I say. “Little banks are just getting swallowed up by the FDIC.”
“Separate Unity is going to be a huge bank once I build this desk,” says Psycho Dave. “We’re going to be too huge to fail. If we go down, everyone goes with us.”
“How are you going to pull that off from my kitchen?” I say.
“Explosives,” says Psycho Dave. “And that’s the Separate Unity difference that makes us Number One in customer satisfaction.”
“You don’t have any customers,” I say.
“You’re one of them,” says Psycho Dave. “I stole a hundred bucks out of your wallet and opened up an low-yield/high explosive Irish Republican Army account for you. And then I wrote on a survey that you were quite satisfied with it. That means I have 100 percent customer satisfaction.”
“I was going to use that money to buy a few cases of Point of View Lager,” I say. “The beer that changes tastes depending who’s drinking it.”
“Your money is better off in my hands than in stimulating the local economy like that,” says Psycho Dave, who then holds up one of my kitchen knives. “And there’s a substantial penalty for early withdrawal.”
“What’s the interest rate on my IRA?” I ask.
Psycho Dave reaches into his pocket and pulls out a 20-sided Dungeons and Dragon die, rolling it on the floor. “Hey, 12 percent. That’s pretty good in this volitaile market.”
I want to argue that interest rates are not set by the roll of D&D dice, but I get the sneaking suspicion that’s how these things are really determined anyway.
“Hey, you want to roll for a home equity loan?” says Psycho Dave, holding up a box for the board game Trouble. “It’s prime plus whatever comes up on the Pop-o-Matic bubble. But first you have to beat me in a game of Connect Four before I can approve your loan.”
“No,” I say.
“Stratego?” says Psycho Dave. “Ants in the Pants? Chutes and Ladders? Perfection? Here at Separate Unity, we will work with you to solve problems that don’t exist. What about Guess Who? I have a version where the game pieces actually talk, but only after a lot of mescaline. ”
“Where’d you get all these board games?” I say.
“The local Salvation Army is very lax with their security,” says Psycho Dave.
This is why I bank with Panchovia. They rob trains, not local charities.